


from these lips, i drew a hallelujah

by SapphireQueen



Category: X-Men: First Class - Fandom
Genre: Charles Is a Darling, College kinda piled on me, Emma Frost is so beautiful okay you don't even, Erik Lehnsherr is scary and commanding, F/F, Moira MacTaggert is just as confused as you are, [I'm so sorry if this came out completely the opposite of what you wanted, and I really just did what I could.]
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 23:11:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5267450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphireQueen/pseuds/SapphireQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moira MacTaggert has been sent to spy on the beautiful White Queen, who frequently visits Charles' Coffee shop/Bistro. </p><p>What she did get she definitely didn't see coming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	from these lips, i drew a hallelujah

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bikenesmith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bikenesmith/gifts).



> Prompt by bikenesmith 
> 
> I want to let you know, it was hard choosing, but I went with this one because I love this couple and there's hardly anything about them. Also, I'm sorry if this is completely and utter poop, it's just that I had little time, with college and all. 
> 
> Sorry if I disappoint, I honestly tried my best. 
> 
> Prompt: An Emma/Moira coffee shop+bistro au with a twist: moira's a spy for hire ([charles voice] semi professional eavesdropper, more like) and is supposed to be keeping an eye on emma frost, a person of interest to her hirer, sebastian shaw. emma comes to the same (expensive) bistro every other weekend to have brunch. over time moira feels almost attached to emma and slowly begins to have a crush on her. during the build of the crush she denies she has feeling for someone she's supposed to be spying on, questions shaw's motives, and has mixed jealous feeling when emma shows up with a friend (Erik)

"You can't just keep showing up to check up on my customers, you know," Charles scoffed, cleaning the first of many used mugs of the day. The scent of cinnamon and scones lovingly filling the air in a cool, warm fragrance of fall, to which to any other year of her life, Moira would have loved.

Unfortunately, this year she was caught working. "If you'd give me a fake job, I wouldn't have to."

"I'm not helping you be a professional eavesdropper," Charles retaliates, and it takes all of Moira's strength not to choke him right there and then. "It's _unethical_."

"It's my job," Moira retaliates, once again, feeling like she's had to pep talk Charles all of her life because he disapproves of her job. Not that she has to prove it to Charles, but being her best friend and the closest thing she has to family right now, she feels like she should. "Charles please, just for a few weeks. If I can't prove anything, you can just kick me to the curb. Please."

"Are you positive this doesn't have any other implications?" Charles grins at her, and she wants to have the audacity to be offended, but she doesn't find it in her to be. Not when the door chimes open and a familiar pair of heels start clicking into the room.

"Hello again, Miss Frost!" He smiles gently to the person behind her and Moira can already feel her cheeks heating up. Totally unprofessional, Em. "And what may I serve you this lovely afternoon?"

"The usual, darling," Her voice is like a soft morning breeze, and Moira is waxing poetically about her again, isn't she? Head in the game, MacTaggert. _She's your target, not your OKCupid date._

"Miss Frost," Moira smiles, turning around and finally looking at her. Her beautiful blonde hair is up in a messy bun with a few strands of it lose and around her face. She's wearing a lovely white sweater for the chilly season and a pair of light blue jeans that fit her perfectly. S _o much for being professional_. "How have you been?"

"Oh sugar, I've told you, call me Emma." She responds, getting her wallet from her purse. "You too, Charles. Miss Frost just isn't my style."

"Whatever you say, darling," Charles replied cheekily, typing something into the cashier, probably Emma's order. "One white mocha and a strawberry scone coming up."

She was right.

"Moira," She hears Emma ask and suddenly she gets butterflies in her stomach, which completely clashes against her neutral look and the gun strapped to her hip. "Would you like to eat with me? I'd love the company."

She wants to look at Charles for support, but she knows by the sound of the machine that he already has his back turned and is currently working on Emma's coffee. "Sure," She answers without thinking, under the guise that she is holding protocol. Establish a report, get close to the target. "I'd like that. Charles, I--"

"A double espresso, two sugars and a croissant." He replies, still with his back turned to them but she can nearly hear his smile. "I know what to do, MacTaggert." She smiles at Charles' cheeky answer.

She looks back at Emma, who is already sitting down by the table nearest to the window, to use the dimming sun's light to illuminate her, the delicate whites she wears, the perfectly placed curls of her hair.

Oh she's good.

Emma Grace Frost, blonde and blue eyed, thirty two, American by birth, but has lived around the world. Recruited by Sebastian Shaw to join her Hellfire Club at the age of sixteen and she hasn't looked back since-- or at least, that is what her file stated. Moira never took to heart the files she had been served during her years working for the government, she knows exactly why she was the one sent for this particular mission; the old geizers at the top office figure that who better to get to know a woman than another woman? There's no way she would fall into Frost's enchantments, would she?

Well, there was still that to find out.

Moira sits across from her and there's certainly something to her that's bewitching. How is someone so beautiful that she's intimidating? She wears her indifference like a shield, not letting anyone know of her true feelings-- not even herself.

"So," She starts, and she can already map out how the conversation may go in her head. "How's everything, Emma? You always have the best stories." A smile small graces her lips, Moira can't read Emma like she can other people, she's an enigma gently wrapped in a satin cloth.

"You flatter me, darling." She answers as she places her hand on the table, white, perfectly manicured nails gently scraping the old oak. Strange, Moira notices with her acute visible senses. They're short. They're usually longer.

There's something in Emma's eyes that Moira can't pinpoint exactly, there's sadness but... power in them. They make her want to sin, to contemplate her deepest desires and sink onto her knees and beg some God, any God for forgiveness. But Moira has never bent to anyone will's, so why start now?

They have been going at this for a while, Emma and Moira sitting down, exchanging sotries. It's been a while and stares have been exchanged, looks have been crossed. The thoughts had started when one day, upon discussing some people they have loved and lost before, Moira received a vision as clear as day. Emma, on her bed, her hair spread across the pillow like a halo, her soft body making the sheets behind her pale in comparison. A hand-- hers? Emma's? Going **_downdowndown_** her body, across her chest, down to her hardened stomach. " _Moira_ ," She had heard, a voice rasped and wanting. There was a pull and hands met thighs. " _Taste_."

"Moira," Moira hears, snapping out of the memory and Emma's looking at her again, a sly smirk directed at her, but her eyes betray her. "Listen to me very carefully,"

"Emma," A voice interrupts them and Moira looks up to a very attractive stranger, looking at her with green eyes. "We have to go. Now." Emma looks back at her and Moira hears a click in her head, finally being able to see Emma truly worried.

"Give me a moment, Erik, I--"

"But nothing," The man-- _Erik_ \-- says, in an urgent manner. "We have to go now, or Shaw will be here soon."

"Moira," Emma says, standing up. There's an tenseness in the air that is so thick, one could cut it. "Moira, I came to tell you that I--"

"Erik," She hears Charles behind her nearly gasp, the two crystal plates he held gone, smashed on the floor. "What are you doing here?"

"Shaw," Erik offers, as if that was explanation enough. "He's found us out, we need to go."

 _Moira, get out of here._ She hears Charles in her head and... _what the fuck_?

"Charles?"

"Go!" He screams, taking off his apron and going to the back of his counter, holding a... _gun_? Apparently there are things about her best friend she doesn't know about.

"What the hell is going on?!" She stops them all, her chest heaving. "Someone explain, **now**."

"Jesus Christ," Erik curses under his breath as he makes a gesture and ... _did the doors all close?_ "Good job on explaining, Frost."

"I was going to."

"Charles, where's the car?

"Out back," He answers, grabbing his coat and placing it on. "You know, I didn't have a getaway planned for this evening. Least of all with you."

Erik grinned. "I'm a delight."

“Moira,” Emma's lovely voice brings her back and she sees panic in her eyes, hot and present. There’s something chaotically terrifying of having the elusive, sharp Emma Frost look like a child, completely defenseless and scared. Moira wants to protect her, but she doesn't know what's happening. She doesn't know who the threat is, she doesn't know why Charles is involved. “I didn't want you involved, not like this.”

There's a soft lull in her head, it feels familiar, like the buzzing feeling she gets when fighting off a hangover. “Emma, put her in the car.” She hears Charles from afar, the rustling sound of moving. “We'll explain everything on the way.”

“You can't expect us to bring a _human_ along?”

“She's my _friend_ , Erik, and she's been involved now, we have no other choice.”

“I'm sorry,” She hears Emma again and her body feels light, so so light. Gentle arms hold her as her body grows limp. “I didn't want it to go like this, sugar.” With a voice that she hardly recognize, Moira reaches up a stand of Emma’s hair.

"W--What's happening, Emma?” Her blue eyes stare at her, sad and contemplating.

"We're mutants, Moira.” She tells her, carefully. _Mutants_? “And we're running from a very, very bad man.” Her eyes feel heavy, but she doesn't want to leave, she doesn't want to leave beautiful, kind Emma Frost behind, but she can't help it as her body slumps. The last thought haunting her.

 _I trust you_.


End file.
